Page 54 of 107 Days

It was a conversation of a very different kind the next day, with Stephen Jackson and Matt Barnes, two retired NBA stars.

Stephen and Matt reach a large audience of sports fans with their outspoken take on issues on and off the basketball court in their podcast, All the Smoke .

It’s not a place you expect to find politicians, which is why I was eager to go there. You have to go where the voters are: you can’t expect them to come to you.

Stephen, or Stak, as he is known, had a tough start in Port Arthur, Texas, where his older brother died of head injuries after a beating. Stak had carried a weight from that tragedy, always wishing he’d been by his brother’s side to defend him in that fatal fight.

I recognized that protective impulse; it was so like the one that had always motivated me.

For Stak, it was what made him a fantastic teammate, but it also got him into trouble as a young player for Indiana, when he leapt into the stands to back up another player in what turned into an ugly brawl with fans.

Don Nelson, then the Warriors’ coach, had been the one who embraced him after that mess, without judgment, and helped him realize his potential.

Right from the start, our conversation was intimate and heartfelt, picking up shared threads of our experiences. We talked about things we had in common, like being stepparents, and our mutual concerns about mental health and childhood trauma.

Matt, who has an Italian mom and a Black dad, told of an incident in high school when someone called his little sister names, and he defended her.

In response, the KKK vandalized his school.

“And I knew at that point, although I was very proud to be Italian and Black, that the world looked at me as a Black man.”

He spoke about his relationship with his stepsons, telling them, “I’m just an extra layer of support and protection. I’m not there to replace your dad.” It was very much how I felt in my relationship with Ella and Cole.

I said that the particular blessing I had was a close and respectful relationship with Kerstin, their mother.

Matt made a face and indicated he had more work to do there: “You’re giving me a hot flash!”

“You have to work at it,” I told him. I’d learned that modeling healthy emotional relationships for our kids is just as important as anything else we do for them, like helping with homework or teaching them to drive.

It’s such a big piece of business that we don’t think about nearly enough.

We will be teaching them, one way or another, in what they observe of the emotional relationships we have.

As the three of us shared anecdotes from our lives, there was so much warmth and recognition. There was light banter in the conversation, the kind only possible between people who see each other, know each other, and can speak in a kind of shorthand. But we finished on a serious note.

Stak had been friends with fellow Texan George Floyd for years, ever since a mutual friend had pointed out how alike they looked.

When they met in person, the first question each asked the other was “Who your daddy?” The only difference between them, Stak said, was that he had opportunities that George Floyd just did not get.

I said it was a failure of the system, to point to the exceptions, like Stak, who managed to transcend their experiences, as if that was an indication that there was some kind of level playing field.

What about the kid who doesn’t have a remarkable talent?

That is not a system that is going to be productive for the greatest number of people.

The system is not working if only the exceptional people are able to succeed.

The murder of Floyd had turned Stak into an activist. He became a powerful voice seeking justice, but also for seeking it by peaceful means. When Minneapolis burned, he called for restraint. Rioting, he said, was not the answer:

“I’ve never stood for that, and Floyd didn’t stand for that.”

George Floyd’s daughter is only eleven years old. Stak has become close to her and spoke movingly of how they held each other up after her father’s murder.

“A lot of days when I didn’t know what I was doing, just hearing her call me uncle, and, you know, just telling me she loved me, those days picked me up a lot. She is definitely a special child.”

As we wound up the recording and took off our mics, Matt, 6′7″, and Stak, 6′8″, unfolded their lanky frames from the formal chairs of the sitting room. As I stood between them for a photograph, I knew this disparity in our heights would be noticeable, to say the least.

But I was proud to stand with two giants of the court who were unafraid to speak openly of hurt and trauma, healing and love.